


who's that girl? it's clarke

by cresswell



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, F/M, Lingerie, New Girl au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-05
Updated: 2015-01-05
Packaged: 2018-03-05 11:29:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3118508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cresswell/pseuds/cresswell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Oh my god," Clarke snorted. "First, yes, I am cute; thank you for noticing. Second, I’m not one of your conquests or whatever. I’m your new housemate.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	who's that girl? it's clarke

She’d been on the fence about it before, but only now, standing in the doorway, did it truly hit her how big of a mistake this was.

"Hi." The boy standing in front of her was tall and muscled and  _shirtless_ , oh god, his mouth lifted in a smirk. “Can I help you?”

She drummed her fingers on the handle of her suitcase, raising an eyebrow in a challenge. She would not be distracted by this unfairly attractive man and his stupid abs. “I’m Clarke.”

The guy scratched the back of his neck, squinting his eyes at her. “Look, you’re cute and everything, but all my things are one-night only, so-“

"Oh my god," Clarke snorted. "First, yes, I am cute; thank you for noticing. Second, I’m not one of your  _conquests_  or whatever. I’m your new housemate.”

She watched as realization bloomed on his face, getting a stab of satisfaction when he covered his mouth in horror. “Oh god.”

"Yeah."

"I’m sorry. I didn’t realize." He stepped aside, holding out his arm to invite her in. "I’m Bellamy, by the way."

"Hi." She stepped in and surveyed her surroundings. It wasn’t a bad apartment, she thought, considering it was run by a bunch of guys. "And there’s three of you here, right?"

"Yeah. Murphy and Miller." He gestured behind him, towards a hallway. "I can go get them, if you want. We can help you move your stuff in."

The opportunity to have three (probably hot) guys do her dirty work for her? Yes please. “Sure, that’d be great.”

And that is how she ended up sitting on her new kitchen counter, eating doritos as she watched three very hot guys grunt and move her furniture.

Which sounds like heaven, of course. But it wasn’t.

* * *

Things started out fine at first, as they always do. Clarke’s room was small, but she didn’t bring much with her when she moved out, so it worked out just fine. The kitchen was spacious and always stocked with foods she’d never let herself eat with Finn, but now had in bulk. And the TV was a flatscreen facing the ugliest but comfiest couch she had ever seen.

But there was only one bathroom.

It wasn’t a problem because she was a space freak or because she felt uncomfortable sharing a shower. The problem was that her roommates were  _hot_.

Bellamy in particular.

Which she hated, because he was the one who was bringing a different girl home every night. (She convinced herself that it was only a problem because she was a light sleeper and he was pretty loud, which wasn’t, like, a _turn-on_ or anything.) He was also the one who insisted on being shirtless approximately 95% of the time, another thing that drove her up the walls. (With anger. And definitely not sexual frustration.) She didn’t understand why she couldn’t just have a crush on Miller, who was sweet and cute and someone her mother would approve of. Or even Murphy, despite the fact that she heard suspicious sounds coming from his room sometimes.

But no, it  _had_  to be Bellamy, with his stupid smirk and his stupid abs and his stupid freckles and his stupid sex noises. She hated him so, so much. Except not really, because he was actually a good person who was kind and thoughtful and funny.

And so she hated that she couldn’t hate him.

* * *

Closer to the holidays, Bellamy brought girls home less and less. Every time he walked in alone, Miller would catch Clarke’s eye and raise an eyebrow. And she would die.

She trailed behind him now, a little bit in awe of her surroundings. Bellamy had insisted they all go with him to the mall to shop for Christmas presents, and although Clarke had been to malls before, she’d never been to one quite as festive. She already felt exhausted, and they hadn’t even been in any stores.

"Ooh, stop here," Bellamy said, jerking her to a halt with a hand on her elbow. Miller and Murphy puttered to a stop as well, wrinkling their noses when they saw what store it was.

"Sephora?"

"Shut up," Bellamy mumbled, blushing down at his feet. Clarke thought she was literally going to burst into flames. "My sister likes makeup. She has one of those youtube tutorial channels."

It was true. Bellamy had shown Clarke his sister’s channel a few times, and it was actually quite good. Octavia had taught her how to properly contour, something she would be forever grateful for.

"I think we’ll just catch up with you, man," Miller said, still looked a little overwhelmed by all the makeup. "Meet us at the food court?"

Clarke started to go with them, but Bellamy caught her by her elbow again. “Not so fast,” he said when she turned to look at him, one of his eyebrows raised. She wanted to kiss the smirk right off his face. “I need your help.”

"I don’t know much about makeup," Clarke warned, following him into the store. "Just the basics. She’s the beauty guru, not me."

"Well, yeah, but you know better than I do." He was aimlessly touching things, like his hands wouldn’t stay still. "Besides, girls have a knack for this sort of thing."

Glaring at the back of his head, she opened her mouth to tell him how sexist that was. But then he looked at her with a grin. “I’m kidding. Now,” He rubbed his hands together. “Let’s get to work, shall we?”

In the end, they did pretty well. Clarke decided they should probably just get her some of the basics, since she’d always be able to use those. So she compiled a collection of various mascaras and eyeshadows and blushes, having to reference Bellamy’s skin tone to find a match. He was surprisingly patient when she would dab on foundation or concealer, his eyes closed and his face relaxed. When she was finished and sure she had found a match, he would wordlessly wipe the spot of makeup off, instead of whining and trying to protect his delicate masculinity like Finn would have.

The thought of Finn made her glower, and Bellamy frowned at her through his mouthful of pretzel. “What’s wrong?”

"Nothing." She picked a piece of her own pretzel off and rolled it between her fingers until it was a ball of dough. "Just thinking."

Bellamy shot her a look that said he didn’t believe her. “Is it about your ex?”

She heaved a sigh. “Yep.”

"Don’t think about him if it only makes you sad."

"I’m not sad."

"Angry, then."

She gave him a look. “It’s not that simple. You can’t just make yourself stop thinking of someone.”

He looked at her like she was stupid. “Sure you can. You distract yourself and keep yourself busy until there’s no more room for them anymore.”

She stared at him, but he hardly noticed, having gone back to his pretzel. Did it really work, doing that? It sounded too simple. But if it was true, Bellamy Blake started making a lot more sense.

"Hey, thanks for helping me today," He said, jarring her out of her thoughts. He was giving her a soft smile, one not held up by cockiness or the need to egg her on. "I’ll make sure to tell Octavia to thank you."

"That’s not necessary," she said, but she appreciated the offer. She examined him for a moment, watching his jaw as he chewed and his throat as he swallowed. "Thank  _you_  for being my color palette.”

He laughed, his head thrown back, and her heart jumped into her throat. “No problem. Anything for Octavia.” He paused. “Or you.”

She didn’t give herself the chance to fully process that because she was sure she would faint. “We should probably catch up with the others.”

Bellamy shook his head slightly, his eyebrows furrowing a little. “Right, we should. Here, let me get that for you.” He reached across and gathered up her trash, throwing it and his into the wastebasket. When they headed off towards the food court, he rested his hand lightly on her back, and she knew she was screwed.

* * *

 

About a week before Christmas, Clarke flipped.

She’d been home alone all day, with no funny texts from Bellamy, and had dealt with a teary-eyed girl at the door who had asked for him. By the time Miller got home, she had kind of trashed her room, and the TV was playing sad jazz music. He, understandably, looked like he regretted walking in.

"What’s going on here, Clarkey?" He asked, approaching her slowly, like she was a wild animal.

She knotted her fingers in her hair and groaned. “I’m losing it, Miller, I am  _losing it.”_ He stayed silent, like he didn’t know what the best response here was. She took pity on him and decided to help him out: “I don’t have any cute lingerie!”

Miller opened his mouth and then closed it, obviously not expecting that. “Um.”

"I know you don’t get it because you don’t wear lingerie, but it is  _crucial_  when trying to obtain a male victim.” She steepled her fingers in front of her mouth, beginning to pace back and forth in front of him.

"Victim?" Miller asked faintly.

She ignored him. “I had some when I was with Finn-” pause to glower, “-but I guess I threw it out or burned it or something, because now I can’t find any of it.”

"And you… want my help with this?"

"What? No." She threw a startled look at him. "Don’t be ridiculous. You were just unfortunate enough to be the first one to walk in."

Miller arched an eyebrow and crossed his arms over his chest. “And would you still be sharing this if, say,  _Bellamy_  had been the first to walk in?”

She broke out of her pacing to glare at him, trying to ignore the hot flush creeping up her cheeks. “This isn’t about Bellamy! This is about me.”

"…wanting to fuck Bellamy."

"Maybe if I do him once, I’ll be able to fuck him out of my system."

Miller winced. “That’s… blunt.”

"But Bellamy, despite all his one-night stands, will need some convincing for me." She chewed on her fingernails, desperately trying to conjure up a plan.

Miller rubbed a hand over his face, and she could tell he was getting impatient with her. “Okay, Clarke, first of all, you can’t fuck someone out of your system. If you fuck him once, you’re going to want to fuck him again. Second of all, what one-night stands? He hasn’t been with anyone in, like, two months.”

She opened her mouth to retort, but then froze, letting the words sink in. Bellamy hadn’t been with anyone in two months? Now that Miller mentioned it, she couldn’t recall the last time she’d seen a girl do the walk of shame out of their flat.

"Stop it," she warned, pointing a finger threateningly at him. "Don’t make me start imagining things that aren’t there."

Miller groaned in exasperation. “Clarke, I didn’t even  _say_  anything! All I said was that he hasn’t been with anyone in a while. I just stated a fact.”

She glared at him, trying to tame the thudding in her chest. She couldn’t tell if he was trying to encourage her without explicitly saying so, or if he was just talking and she was reading too far into it. Finally, she threw her hands in the air. “God, whatever. I’ll just get him a fucking Christmas sweater, then.”

* * *

She did just that, and his face lit up in delight when he opened it. He leaned over to give her a hug, slightly awkward with Murphy’s legs between them, and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Thank you, Clarke! I’m going to put this on right now.”

Both their flatmates groaned. “He’s never going to take it off now,” Miller said. “Thanks a lot, Clarke.”

"You’re just jealous because you didn’t get anything as good as this," Bellamy said haughtily, admiring the sweater. Pulling it on had ruffled his hair and it stood in every which way. Clarke hid her smile.

It was a lazy Christmas day, and soon after opening presents, Miller left to spend the day with his family. Clarke asked Bellamy if he was going to see Octavia, but he shook his head. “She’s with her boyfriend’s family today, but I’m going over tomorrow.”

"That’s cool," she replied. They were sitting in her room, Bellamy splayed out on his back across her bed. She was practically alight with nerves. Instead of taking Miller’s advice, she’d gotten a second gift for Bellamy- one that was hopeful better than a goddamn sweater.

She stood to go behind her changing screen, feeling almost nauseous with nerves. Bellamy kept chattering on about Octavia and her boyfriend, completely at ease with the idea of Clarke changing in the same room as him, and she took that as a good sign. As quietly as possible, she slipped out of her sweater dress, interjecting with a “mhm” or a “yeah” whenever he paused.

He broke off mid-sentence when she pulled the lingerie set out of the shopping bag, sending a crinkle of plastic through the room. She cursed under her breath. “What are you doing back there?” He called.

"Just putting on pajamas," she lied, her voice stuttering only a little. "My mom got me a new pair."

Bellamy made an interested sound, then changed the subject and started talking about god knows what. She blocked him out, having an embarrassingly hard time getting into the underwear. There were so many clasps and it was all such delicate material that she was afraid she’d rip it in half.

By the time she managed to get it on properly, her blood was pounding so hard in her eardrums that Bellamy’s voice sounded far away. She took her hair out of its crown, letting it fall loose and wavy around her face, and took a deep breath.

When she stepped out from behind the screen, he didn’t see her right away. He was staring up at her ceiling with his arms folded behind his head, looking so at home that her heart hurt a little bit. He heard her clear her throat and started to sit up, muffling a yawn behind his hand. “It’s about time. I thought maybe you’d gotten stuck back there-“

He cut off abruptly, his eyes widening. Clarke tried very hard to hold herself straight and tall, her hands smoothing over the semitransparent stockings that covered her legs. They were held up by slim ribbons attached to her underwear, which was lacy and pretty, and her bra was the same material. She felt like the whole ensemble made her seem whimsical and ethereal.

The silence was killing her, so she wrung her hands. “Do you like it?”

His lips were parted. She tried to still the whole-body flush that was sweeping over her skin as his gaze trailed over her. Finally, he cleared his throat and ran a hand through his hair. “Clarke, what are you doing?”

"You didn’t think I’d only gotten you that god-awful sweater, did you?" She walked forward to stand between his legs. She liked how he looked from this angle: sitting on her bed with his head tilted back to look at her, his eyes dark with want and his jaw sharpened by shadows. She touched his shoulder. "You didn’t answer my question."

"Yes, I like it," he breathed, sounding somewhat strangled, and she felt his hands grip her waist even though she didn’t think it was a conscious choice. "I like it very much."

"Good," she said softly, not really sure where to go from here. It seemed like they were at a standstill, each just a bit too afraid to make the next move. She fiddled anxiously with one of the ribbons on her thighs, getting a jolt of pleasure when she noticed his eyes immediately drop to the motion. "Are you- do you wanna-"

"Oh, fuck it," Bellamy said suddenly, a decisive tone edging the words, and pulled her forward by her hips. She fell into his lap, her thighs against his hips.

"That was my plan," She joked quietly, the smile sliding right off her face when he tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear. He was looking at her reverently, like he couldn’t believe she was actually here, and she couldn’t believe it either. She closed her eyes when he started to lean forward, and a moment later she felt his lips meet her own. She thought her skin would catch fire, but she knew that if it did, Bellamy would smooth it out with his hands. He tasted like hot cocoa and he took a sharp breath through his nose when their lips met, and she liked knowing that she wasn’t the only one affected by this.

She pushed his shoulders gently until he fell back against her bed, already looking blissful and debauched, and she ran her hands up his chest, pulling his sweater and shirt off in one fluid motion. He whimpered when her fingertips met the skin on his chest, and she smiled against his neck, biting down gently and swiping her tongue over the bite immediately after. She had never imagined him as the type to be needy in bed, but she kind of really liked it. His hands slid up her thighs and their lips slipped together messily, their heartbeats in tandem.

She kissed a line down the side of his face to his ear. “I’ve thought about this for a long time.”

He groaned, throwing his head back, and she rolled her hips against his for good measure. The friction caused a shiver to race up her spine. “God, Clarke. Do that again.”

She did, and he thanked her by sucking a bite just underneath her collarbone. She wound her fingers in his hair, letting her eyelids flutter shut as he began to gently undo her carefully arranged lingerie. He unhooked her stockings first, and she kicked them off impatiently, giggling a little as he gently rolled them over and pinned him beneath her. She hooked her ankles over his back, needing him impossibly closer, and kissed him again.

It was a soft kiss, one that made a warmth bloom in her chest, and she kept her eyes closed a moment after he pulled away. He touched her jaw lightly. “You okay?”

"Yeah, I just-" She cut herself off. She hadn’t planned on this, on spilling her guts to him, but it was so hard not to with the way he was looking at her. "I… Do you wanna go on a date with me this weekend?"

He blinked at her in mild surprise, looking beautiful in the glow in her room, and she played with his hair to calm her nerves. Finally, his mouth slowly crept up into a grin. “I thought you’d never ask.”

She laughed in relief, shoving him lightly. “You asshole! You could’ve just asked me yourself instead of waiting until I’d spent a fortune on this-“

"Oh, no, I’m glad you did," he said, and she laughed again, tilting her head so he could kiss a line from her jaw to her heart. "But I hope you’re okay with me taking it off now."

She grinned up at him through her eyelashes, pulling his hips against hers with her fingers in his belt loops. “Shut up and kiss me.”


End file.
